


"Say It!" "I'm Good! I'm a Good Person!" "Yeah!!!"

by skepticallysighing



Series: 30 Días de Recuperación [6]
Category: Monster High
Genre: F/F, Falling In Love, Falling Out of Love, Femme, First Kiss, Fluff, Lesbian awakening, Romance, dumb lesbian, romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:28:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29254449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skepticallysighing/pseuds/skepticallysighing
Summary: “Wow, really?” Frankie asked, like she really, really cared.“Yes, really,” I smiled.And Frankie praised me so much, she thought that was such a smart, good answer. She told me all about how much she agreed, and invited me to spend this free period with her.(Garrott says he misses me in his letters.)ORRochelle loves girls, and figures it out in real time.ORI rewrite my Rochelle story after figuring out some things about myself.
Relationships: Rochelle Goyle/Frankie Stein
Series: 30 Días de Recuperación [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090907
Kudos: 10





	"Say It!" "I'm Good! I'm a Good Person!" "Yeah!!!"

**Author's Note:**

> The implication is supposed to be that, regardless of how much Garrott loves Rochelle, them being together makes Rochelle feel isolated from others and lonely, and also she loves girls.

There’s things I want to do and ways I want to feel, but I feel like-

Like I must do it from a distance. I’m not  _ meant _ to have friends. I’m not  _ friendly _ , and I don’t  _ deserve  _ it.

I never fit in at Granite City High, but truly? I didn’t fit in at home in Scaris either. Even with Garrott there, and Garrott was so perfect and kind to me always, it was not…

I don’t know. Because he was good to me, he always was. And it feels awful to imply he didn’t love me enough. Maybe I didn’t love him enough.

Maybe I just need to keep at a distance.

I like art, I really do. I like working with clay and paint, and I make flowers and cute animals and beautiful girls. It’s always been a safe place for me, in art rooms. I can just make art, not strings attached. I can admire beauty and create beauty, and it doesn’t mean a thing about me.

Garrott writes me letters.

This girl, Frankie, she is so sweet to me. I cannot stand it, because she is so friendly, and I have never done a thing to deserve it. She has soft hands, and sometimes she touches my hands in hers. My hands are all chipped and cracked, and hers are withered and stitched together.

She said “Hi, Rochelle! Oh, it’s so good to  _ see _ you!” and she meant it, and what could I do but blush a little? Is this teasing? Was she making fun of me?

“It is good to see you too,” I said, wishing I could smile like she does.

“So, I’ve been talking with all the exchange students -- what made you decide to come to monster high?”

“Well, we gargoyles have sharp eyes and hard heads. It takes us many, many years to make up our mind over anything, but once it’s made up, it’s made up for certain. I have been watching this school for years, and I liked what I saw. My parents knew this decision was not (and I hesitated here as I found the words)...hasty.”

“Wow, really?” Frankie asked, like she really, really cared.

“Yes, really,” I smiled, and it felt easy. “My friends (they hadn’t been my friends) were happy looking in one direction forever. They believed...they couldn’t  _ understand _ that the things they didn’t see could be important. I want to see everything. I think I can, here. I think the school values it.”

And Frankie praised me so much, she thought that was such a smart, good answer. She told me all about how much she agreed, and invited me to spend this free period with her.

Garrott says he misses me in his letters.

“What do you want?” Toralei asked as I came to stand by her. She was hovering under the awning, watching the rain come down.

“You do not want to get wet,” I said simply, holding my pink umbrella well above my head.

“What, just because I’m a werecat?” she shot back in that slick, slippery, almost-whiney voice of hers. “ _ Wow _ , Rochelle-”

“No, not because of that. You got so upset when you were splashed with water in biteology.”

Toralei narrowed her eyes, not sure whether to trust me. I had noticed. I watch, after all.

“Would you like to walk with me? I am heading to the bus stop, and if you are going the same way, we could share my umbrella.”

She considered it for a second longer before slipping out from the awning and underneath my umbrella. We walked together, and though I didn’t say much, she waited only a minute before complaining to me about Cleo and some disagreement they were in. To me, they seemed to both be in the wrong, but I didn’t say that.

When we reached the bus stop, she stayed by my side and kept telling me things. My heart was pounding so hard looking down at her, watching her eyes and her lips move rapid-fire. When her bus came, she gave me a dazzling smile.

“Thanks, Rochelle. You’re the  _ best _ ,” and though her voice was always dripping in sarcasm, for some reason, I felt like she meant it.

I wrote Garrott back. I said that I’ve been so busy, I just didn’t have time to write him back, but I miss him, and I love him.

Frankie sits across from me everyday in lunch. She’s so bubbly and open, and she is so smart. I could listen to her talk all day.

She told me I was cute, and I blushed so hard when I thanked her. She linked ankles with me under the table.

Garrott wrote me back within a day.

“I’m just- I am so worried,” Catrine told me, and I don’t remember how we started the conversation. She is so beautiful. She acts exactly like a french lady is supposed to. And her art is so perfect. She’s like music.

“Oh. I am sorry, what about?” I ask.

“It’s just- I plan to join the art club, and what if-” she sounds so perfect even when she’s stumbling. “What if they don’t like me?”

I can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t like her.

I haven’t opened Garrott’s letter yet. I just don’t have the time.

I ran right into Deuce Gorgon, Cleo’s boyfriend. Though his glasses were knocked aside in our collision, you can’t turn a stone girl into stone twice, right? We talked, and he was so funny, but Cleo got upset by that. She pulled Deuce away and snapped at me. I don’t know why.

I hid Garrott’s letter so I wouldn’t have to think about it.

Invisibilly helped me to get the part in the upcoming spring recital. I was so happy, and we went and ate in the cafeteria together after. The next day, we went and got drinks from a local coffee house, and then we went to his house. It was so much fun, because he is so much fun. But he leaned in to kiss me, and it took me off guard.

“Whoa, sorry, sorry,” he said quickly when he saw my face.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

“It’s okay, Rochelle, you don’t have to apologize. That’s on me, we don’t have to do anything.”

“You’re so nice, Invisibilly,” I say quickly. “You’re really nice. I just don’t see you like that.”

And I realize then, I don’t see any guy like that.

“You’re good, you don’t have to explain a thing,” Invisibilly smiled. “Wanna get started on the midterm paper?”

And we do.

But I reread Garrott’s letters, and I don’t feel a thing. Worse, I realize I never felt a thing.

I write him one last letter.

There’s a dance. There’s always a dance.

I’m with Frankie, and she’s smiling at me. She tells me how nice I look, how good I am at dancing, how happy she is to see me. She pulls me to the side of the party and kisses me. She makes me feel like I belong, not just with her, but surrounded by other people. Like I fit in with people again. Like I’m not a loner stuck with another. Like I’m lovable, and I always was.

The only distance is between what I thought I deserved and need and who I am now, and I have never liked who I am more.


End file.
